Oh, hello, beautiful Wednesday. Three days ago, I was working my butt off performing various duties in my new role as supervisor at work. I held girls accountable, trained new staff, and successfully talked a girl into getting out of bed for about thirty minutes before she gave up and laid on the floor in her room again. I also monitored girls as they deep cleaned their home, exercised in their basement, and dealt with the under-staffing that results from a high-stress job with an even higher turnover rate. It was a long day. I was also acutely aware of my intake of fluids and food, as I was not allowed to eat or drink anything past midnight. Had I just experienced my first day of being a gremlin? Nope, I had surgery in the morning!
As you may remember from my months ago post about impending surgery, I was scheduled to have a diagnostic laparoscopy, which is the condensed way of saying getting a couple of cuts in my belly, pumping it full of gas, going through one of those holes with a camera, and identifying and destroying any endometriosis that could be found. This was to be a big surgery for me, since my infertility has been going on for at least the past four years and has been "unexplained" for the past two.
Monday morning came and went faster than even I could have predicted. I arrived at the hospital at 9:15 for a surgery scheduled for 11:40, but the surgery before mine was cancelled and I was able to be fit in even earlier. Seeing the nurse write on the white board that surgery was "NOW!!" had me a bit freaked out to say the least, but I was there and I was doing it and there was no turning back at that point.
After surgery, while in recovery, I chewed on ice chips to soothe my sore throat, and I tried to get any and all information out of my nurse, but she knew nothing about my procedure. It left me feeling frustrated, but the kind of calm, docile, frustrated that you can only feel when your heart is pumping about forty beats a minute and you're too drugged up to really know much beyond what's happening in that moment. I was aware enough, however, to ask the nurse how many incisions I had in my belly, since I knew that there would only be two if they hadn't found any endometriosis. When the nurse answered "three," I might have started crying. There was so much more than three cuts in me in that moment--there was hope.
When I finally got back into my room, where Trevor the nurse ("hey, that's my favorite brother's name too!") wheeled me in, I sipped my water and continued chomping on my ice, and waited for Joshua to come in. When he did, he had pictures and a diagnosis of for real moderate endometriosis, and I suddenly felt so validated and right for all of those times I knew something wasn't right and that there had to be an explanation for why everything wasn't working for us. I cried the happiest tears I could. I called my mom and my mother-in-law and others and cried to them with my slow, scratchy voice. I was relieved and hopeful and happy.
I never thought a diagnosis would make me feel this way, but when you've heard for years you're probably just not "doing it right" or that you should "just adopt," it feels good to know that you're not crazy. I am not crazy. I have endometriosis. And we removed as much of it as we could find during surgery, and hopefully that's enough so that I can have biological children in my future. And if not? That's okay too. At least I know now what's wrong with me so that I can start dealing with it.
Hey world, I have endometriosis, and while it may not seem an occasion to cry happy tears, there have been many shed in my house this week. Gone are the days of "unexplained" infertility in my house. We finally have answers!!
As you may remember from my months ago post about impending surgery, I was scheduled to have a diagnostic laparoscopy, which is the condensed way of saying getting a couple of cuts in my belly, pumping it full of gas, going through one of those holes with a camera, and identifying and destroying any endometriosis that could be found. This was to be a big surgery for me, since my infertility has been going on for at least the past four years and has been "unexplained" for the past two.
Monday morning came and went faster than even I could have predicted. I arrived at the hospital at 9:15 for a surgery scheduled for 11:40, but the surgery before mine was cancelled and I was able to be fit in even earlier. Seeing the nurse write on the white board that surgery was "NOW!!" had me a bit freaked out to say the least, but I was there and I was doing it and there was no turning back at that point.
After surgery, while in recovery, I chewed on ice chips to soothe my sore throat, and I tried to get any and all information out of my nurse, but she knew nothing about my procedure. It left me feeling frustrated, but the kind of calm, docile, frustrated that you can only feel when your heart is pumping about forty beats a minute and you're too drugged up to really know much beyond what's happening in that moment. I was aware enough, however, to ask the nurse how many incisions I had in my belly, since I knew that there would only be two if they hadn't found any endometriosis. When the nurse answered "three," I might have started crying. There was so much more than three cuts in me in that moment--there was hope.
When I finally got back into my room, where Trevor the nurse ("hey, that's my favorite brother's name too!") wheeled me in, I sipped my water and continued chomping on my ice, and waited for Joshua to come in. When he did, he had pictures and a diagnosis of for real moderate endometriosis, and I suddenly felt so validated and right for all of those times I knew something wasn't right and that there had to be an explanation for why everything wasn't working for us. I cried the happiest tears I could. I called my mom and my mother-in-law and others and cried to them with my slow, scratchy voice. I was relieved and hopeful and happy.
I never thought a diagnosis would make me feel this way, but when you've heard for years you're probably just not "doing it right" or that you should "just adopt," it feels good to know that you're not crazy. I am not crazy. I have endometriosis. And we removed as much of it as we could find during surgery, and hopefully that's enough so that I can have biological children in my future. And if not? That's okay too. At least I know now what's wrong with me so that I can start dealing with it.
Hey world, I have endometriosis, and while it may not seem an occasion to cry happy tears, there have been many shed in my house this week. Gone are the days of "unexplained" infertility in my house. We finally have answers!!
1 comment:
Wahoo!!! So excited you have answers. Let's go celebrate! :)
xoxo.
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